


Pets and Keepers

by Masterofceremonies



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofceremonies/pseuds/Masterofceremonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are pets, there are keepers, there are the usual masses of humanity, and there are those who do not fit into any designated group. Shockingly, this story will focus on the third denomination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are based on the Hannibal series, but that's the only similarities. I just don't want to get sued for copyright infringement, so I'm being upfront about my inspiration. I originally had changed the names, but I switched them back because I'm posting it as fanfiction instead of an original work.

Will smacked his hands together to try and shock some feeling back into his numb fingers. Every othis part of his body was warm and protected by his work clothes, but they didn’t think to include gloves with his jumpsuit, and he wasn’t about to spend a week's worth of coin on a pair.

“Fucking weather.” He muttered for the thousandth time, and stared at his raw hands, wishing his jumpsuit had pockets for the millionth time. He peered down the road and sighed in relief when he spotted the transit heading towards him. It screeched to a stop across the street, Will sighed and grabbed his knapsack straps and dodged traffic before squeezing through the doors right before they closed.

“You’re supposed to stop across the street.” He panted, looking pointedly at the apathetic transit driver. She rolled his eyes and silently pointed to the card scanner. Will tugged his lanyard out from under his neckline and waved his ID in front of the scanner. It hummed and beeped green, and the transit driver nodded before pulling into traffic, jostling Will against the seat before he could sit down. He collapsed in the back, feeling his hands tingle painfully as they warmed while attempting to breath shallowly so the stench of urine and body odor wouldn’t infiltrate his nose. He stared out the grimy window through someone had rubbed a small clean spot in the filth. Over the speakers, music played, boring and melodic. 

Will glanced down, noting the wires that ran to the intercom and idly wondering what would happen if he ripped one out. 

“At least the music would stop.” He muttered to himself, not too quietly, which earned him a glare from the old woman sitting diagonal from him. Steam gathered on his glasses due to the transition from cold to warm, and Will removed them as the transit lumbered to a stop once more. He wiped them on his legs before sliding them back on his face, just in time to catch a boy in a hood, clutching a thermos try to slip by the card machine. 

“Uh-uh, honey, no ya don’t.” The driver snatched at his arm and jabbed his meaty finger at the card reader. “Scan it or get off.” 

He looked up, fixing the transit driver with a glare that could have frozen lava. The driver released his arm and the character slowly reached into his ratty backpack and pulled out a card.he swiped it and the machine hummed, it seemed for quite a while longer than it did with Will’s, who was now watching with interest. Finally, it beeped green and the character marched into the back, and threw himself violently down, across from Will. He observed the generally sketchy nature of the… boy. It took Will a moment to realize that’s what he was. 

“Hey, you in the hood.” The driver, having recovered from the death stare, addressed the character once more. “Take it off, we need facial recognition for the cameras.” 

The boy very slowly looked up, but the driver didn’t flinch this time. Will cocked his head, wondering if he was going to get thrown off the transit. After an agonizing moment, he very slowly pushed the hood off. Now it was Will’s turn to suck in air, as well as the driver and everyone on the transit who was paying attention. The boy’s head was shaved, the symbols inked on his skull slightly obscured by the dark hair that had grown to the point of a normal buzzcut. The tattoos trailed down his neck, disappearing under the neck of his sweatshirt. 

“You can’t be on here without your keeper.” The transit driver pushed the button to open the doors, and stared expectantly.

“I’m free.” his voice was loud, but not intentionally, it was just one of those voices that carried with no effort. He pointed to his head. “That’s why it hasn’t been re-shaved.” The driver paused, and Will began to notice people shifting in annoyance. They were off schedule, and this was becoming less entertaining and more of a nuisance. 

“Prove it.” The driver shrugged, as if she didn’t care one way or another, but Will could see that she was getting nervous and impatient. The character grabbed his backpack and rooted through it, before pulling out a certificate. Will curiously glanced at the name listed on it, and spotted “Tenenera” where the recipients name went, but his hand covered the keepers name, all Will saw was an M. 

He dragged up to the driver and shoved the paper at her. The driver examined it closely, and probably would have gone on for much longer, but one of the othis passengers started to cuss his out so she shoved it back at the boy and pulled into traffic, causing him to crash onto the floor. No one offered to help his, and he had to grip onto the backs of the seats, quickly making his way back to his seat. Will watched him through all of this. 

He shot a glare at Will when he finally sat down, so he averted his gaze to the window, but continued to study the boy’s reflection. Slumping down in his seat, he began to fidget with his sleeves. Will shifted so he could get a better view of his clothing. You could learn a lot about someone by what they wore. 

He was wearing a ratty red sweatshirt, more black than red, actually, but Will couldn’t tell if that was on purpose or just from grime. The ends of the sleeves had begun to unravel, and as he watched, the boy ripped off several dangling threads and let them fall to the floor. His jeans were several sizes too big for him, and were covered in pockets that bulged with whatever was inside. Will assumed the boy was wearing a belt, seeing as the pants didn’t slip at all when he moved.

The only expensive looking item he had was his boots, which were black leather and looked relatively new. Will glanced down at his own boots, being held together by duct tape and glue, an ugly brown color with twine for laces. His curiosity regarding the girl doubled. Boots were even more expensive than gloves. 

By the time they pulled into the city, Will was debating skipping work to tail his. his destination had to be more interesting than crime-scene cleanup. The bus pulled over to the side of the street, as cars rushed by them, honking. Will looked up in confusion as the driver hit the brakes and turned the hazard lights on. The boy shot up, looking around wildly.

“Hey!” He shouted but the driver avoided looking up. “Hey, let me out” The driver ignored him. “Let me out you dumb bitch, I’ll fucking walk!” As he strode up the aisle his boot thudding heavily, everyone’s eyes following him. The air of tension thickened, and he only made it halfway to the front before the doors creaked open and two officers walked on, calmly surveying the now terrified transit patrons. The boy, who’s name Will couldn’t pronounce, even in his head, backed quickly to his seat. He slid into place and hunched over his bag, rooting around with his back to Will, who couldn’t decide if he should watch him, or the officers. 

“There.” Will glanced up and shifted uncomfortably as the driver pointed to the girl, sending the two officers strolling down the aisle. He noticed they had both flipped the safety off on their weapons, and his stomach plunged into his feet. Glancing over at the boy, he noticed he had put his hood on again. 

“Stand up, and show us your hands.” The taller officer spoke, seemingly bored. The boy complied, standing and raising his hands just high enough to placate the officer. He reached into his belt and drew out a pair of suppression cuffs. They unfolded, becoming large enough to cover his arms up to the elbows. 

“Tenenera Verger, you are wanted for leaving your keeper, as well as acts of domestic terrorism, vandalism, conspiracy, theft, treason, and a number of petty crimes.” Will noticed that he pronounced the name like Ten-en-er-ah. Tenenera smiled slightly at his list of crimes and shook his head, before dropping his hands to his sides. The officer not holding the suppression cuffs drew his weapon, pointing the electric end at his face and booting it up so it glowed blue. 

“Put your hands back up, or I will shoot!” He threatened.

“My name is not Tenenera Verger.” His voice was louder than the officer’s and he actually took a step back when he spoke, his weapon lowering a fraction of an inch. “My name is Ten, and I am free.” He looked around at the others in the bus. “I AM FREE, AND I WILL NEVER GO BACK.” His voice was a roar but he was laughing almost maniacally. 

“One more chance, Tenenera! Put your hands up!” The officer holding the weapon clutched it tightly and advanced towards his.

His smile widened and he took a deep breath, then held it. Will glanced back at his seat, and saw a small black box with a blinking purple light. He recognized what it was, and managed to suck in air a second before it went off. Acrid smoke filled the bus, and Tenenera lunged for his backpack, grabbing it and slinging it over his shoulder. The officers were coughing on their hand and knees, trying not to vomit, which most of the people in the transit already had. 

Tenenera used the back of one of the officers to launch himself towards the door, which the transit driver had shut behind the officers. One of the patrons made a grab at his sleeve, but he whirled around and slammed his backpack into their face, before throwing his thermos at the button that opened the door. It hit with a solid thunk and the door creaked open just in time for him to tumble through it and hit the ground at a full sprint. 

Will struggled through the bus after his, his arm covering his mouth and nose. He made it outside before sucking in the razor air of winter and trying not to puke. Ten turned around, seeing Will emerge before calling out to him.

“Are you coming?” 

Will stared at him, dumbfounded and silent. Ten shook his head before swearing, grabbing tightly to his straps and vaulting over the guard-rail of the highway. He disappeared into the back alleys of the city in seconds. The other patrons straggled out behind Will as the chem bomb petered out. Finally, the two officers emerged, uniforms smeared with dirt and vomit, trying to maintain an air of credibility. The driver was sitting on the curb, with her head between her legs. The officers went over to her and spoke for a few minutes, before they got back into their patrol car and left. Will decided he had nothing to lose, and approached the driver cautiously.

“Did you call them?” Will asked, attempting to keep the accusatory note from his voice. The driver looked up at his question and nodded robotically. “Why?” She shrugged and squinted at the transit.

“His card brought up a warning, but then it disappeared. When I saw his name on his papers, I ran it, and a warrant came up. The computer automatically called the officers when I ran the name.” 

“What was his last name?”

“Verger.” The bus driver laughed bitterly. “The little bitch is a Verger.”

Will searched his brain for where he had heard that name before. “Wait, as in Mason Verger? The heir, Mason Verger?” The driver nodded and Will scoffed. “And he ran away from being his pet?” The driver threw his hands up in an “who fucking knows” gesture. 

As if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him, Will remembered he needed to get to work. Glancing around, he realized he was just a few blocks from his station. Without saying good-bye, he ran off down the street, hoping that getting his blood pumping would warm up his hands.


	2. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have figured out, the chapter numbers don't coincide with the actual order the chapters are in. MAYBE THAT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE STORY. HMMMMMMM....

 

Will bolted into the warehouse just as Jack was leaving. 

“You’re late.” Jack was pissed. As usual.

“There was an incident on the transit.” Will managed to get out, despite being heavily winded and numb from the cold. Jack raised an eyebrow and Will, taking a deep breath, gave a summary of his ride to work. Jack let out a long low whistle.

“Well, I guess I won’t dock your pay then.” He slapped Will on the shoulder, shaking his head. “Pets can be crazy. Be glad you’re not a keeper.” Jack’s smile faded, expression turning dark and annoyed. “Speaking of keepers, we got one sniffing around.” Jack jerked his head towards the back of the warehouse. “He’s a shrink, or something. The cadaver is a patient of his, so I wouldn’t hire him anytime soon.” He strode away as Will tried not to roll his eyes. Cleaning up after dead bodies gave you a pretty morbid sense of humor. 

His co-worker, Jimmy, waved Will over to where he was standing by a box of cleaning supplies. 

“Will! Boy do we have a mess today.” Jimmy was bouncing with excitement. As usual. He was an interesting man, older than Will, who had wanted to be in the FBI but he couldn’t make it through boot-camp. Instead, he signed up, voluntarily, for cleanup. 

Jimmy had a master’s in forensics and technology, but he spent his days pouring Clorox on bloodstains. It puzzled Will to no end. “I want to try out my new cleanser.” He held up a milk jug full of purple liquid. Will sighed at the other’s enthusiasm and grabbed a few rags, a bucket and some rubber gloves. 

He followed Jimmy to the back corner of the warehouse where the remains were located. There was no police tape around the scene, as the door to the warehouse was already guarded, so anyone who was inside already had full access. Most of the FBI had already left, having finished their documentation of the crime scene. Jimmy gave an overly enthusiastic wave to Brian, a crime scene photographer whom he had a crush on. “Crush” being a relative term. “Obsession” was more accurate.

“Ugh look at him.” Jimmy groaned after Brian had waved back casually and turned away. “With his stupid camera. And his stupid face.” They reached the edge of the gore and Jimmy placed his supplies on the ground before craning his neck to try and better see the object of his affection. “I wanna touch his butt.” 

Will sighed. “You want to touch everyone’s butt.” He muttered, examining the carnage. It looked like someone had tried to make a strawberry smoothie with organs and accidentally left the lid off the blender. “Isn’t he sleeping with that reporter girl?”

Jimmy snorted, pouring his purple cleanser over the worse of the mess. “Yeah.” Grumbling, he changed his voice to a mocking tone. “Freeeeeddie.” Rolling his eyes, he let his voice drop back to a normal decibel. “Who names their daughter after a boy?” He muttered sourly. 

“Who names their kid after a president?” Will smirked and Jimmy turned to face him, arms akimbo, the milk jug in his hand continuing to drip purple fluid onto the floor, which then began to froth. 

“James Madison was a great man.” He deadpanned, fixing Will with an entirely serious expression.  

“And if you went by James, I would respect you. But you don’t. You go by Jimmy.” Will grabbed his own bottle of standard bleach and poured it into his bucket, mixing in some oxidizing solvent for good measure. “Maybe that’s why Brian isn’t going for you. Calling out ‘Jimmy’ in bed isn’t exactly sexy.” Will laughed.

“Oh come on, all this makes up for it.” Jimmy gestured to himself as he jutted his hips out like he was posing for a magazine cover. “Even you’d do me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Will glanced over and make a show of checking Jimmy out. 

“Eh.” Will made a noncommittal hand gesture that caused Jimmy to huff, then shove him. 

“Shut up!”

Laughing, Will carefully steadied himself from the shove. It wouldn’t be very fun to fall in the pureed human that they were trying to clean. Of course, it had happened before, but Will had learned from his mistakes. Hopefully. 

“I suppose I’d do you...” He gave Jimmy a contemplative look, pausing for dramatic effect. “But I’d do Brian before I did you.” Jimmy pulled a face as Will continued. “And I’d do Freddie before I did Brian. Boy name and all.” The other burst into laughter as Will began scraping congealed blood into a bucket. 

“You’d do me before you did Jack.” Jimmy wiggled his eyebrows once more as Will made gagging noises, more disgusted by the thought of sleeping with his boss than the task at hand. Mid gag, Will froze, spotting a man walking towards them. He straightened quickly and repositioned his glasses, Jimmy, catching sight of his expression, grew serious, and turned to look. 

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, trying not to openly stare. 

Walking towards them was a keeper. A  _ keeper. _ He looked like a caricature of everything a keeper should be, a stereotypical ideal that shouldn’t have existed outside of rigged commercials and photoshopped advertisements. 

The first thing Will noticed about him was his hair. It was golden brown, highlighted with faint streaks of silver, slicked back with the sort of neatness Will never had. 

The second thing he took in was his face. His eyes were a light brown with flecks of maroon, high cheekbones covered tanish gold skin, the sort that came from being foreign rather than exposure to the sun.

His clothes cinched it. His suit probably cost more than Will’s… life. It was dark grey with thin red lines creating a plaid pattern that Will would’ve deemed ridiculous had he not seen this man pull it off flawlessly. His shoes were square tip oxfords with detailed broguing, polished enough to gleam in the fluorescent lights.  

Will became suddenly, acutely, painfully aware of his messy hair, threadbare work clothes, and unshaven face. He glanced sideways at Jimmy whose expression betrayed the same line of thought. He reached up to adjust his glasses, hiding his eyes from view as the man came to a stop before them.

“You must be the keeper.” Will muttered, when the man didn’t speak first.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” The man introduced himself in a thickly accented baritone, offering a hand that Will ignored. Jimmy quickly stepped forward to take it, but Dr. Lecter’s gaze remained fixed on Will, even as Jimmy introduced himself.

“Jimmy Price.” His voice was louder than normal, like he was trying to make up for Will’s sullen attitude with his own boisterous one. “Nice to meet you. Well… it would be nice if the circumstances were different.” 

Dr. Lecter nodded, a pleasant smile on his face that reminded Will of the grinning mask often used to represent theater. 

“He was a patient of yours.” Will gestured to the near liquified remains of what had, apparently, once been a human being. 

“Yes, he was.” Dr. Lecter replied, apparently not aware that Will hadn’t been asking a question.

“What was he seeing you for?” He didn’t know why he asked. It didn’t matter, really. The man was dead, and Will was just here to get rid of the stain he left on the world, but he was curious.

“He had gotten out of an abusive relationship recently, and he was struggling with his social life.” Dr. Lecter’s eyes flicked to a puddle of blood. “I have given Agent Crawford the name of his abuser. I hope it was he who did this, if only so that he can be brought to justice.”

“His ex didn’t do this.” Will bent down and grabbed the bucket, sloshing some of the cleaning mixture inside over a particularly bad stain. Jimmy and Dr. Lecter both turned, giving him the same inquisitive look. Glancing up briefly, Will’s eyes rested on Hannibal’s nose before flicking away. 

“Care to explain yourself?” Dr. Lecter prompted softly.

“This warehouse is abandoned, which makes it too well planned out to be a crime of passion, but the body is practically goop, which is too passionate to be well planned. He must’ve broken up with his ex a while ago because if he’s been in therapy long enough to bond with his doctor it’s been at least a few months, which means the ex would’ve had loads of time to kill him before now. Why wait? If it had been his ex, his body would’ve been found in his home, or hidden in some public space, like a park, either beaten to death or stabbed or something repetitive and mechanical. The ex was abusive, but didn’t kill the victim when he broke up with him, which means he has some sort of self control, or preservation. So this wasn’t him. Too messy, too planned.”

“Who could it have been?” Dr. Lecter asked, voice entirely interested. 

“Someone who wanted to know what killing felt like, and picked this man specifically because of his past abusive relationships. This happened last night, so they were probably out on a date… the killer would’ve known his psych profile well enough to push just the right buttons so that the man did whatever he wanted. Then they came here, probably under the pretense of sex… the killer likely followed through, then murdered him. Wounds were post mortem, right?”

Jimmy nodded slowly.

“Right. So the killer didn’t want any evidence from their tryst, and he didn’t want to be tempted to kill again for a while, so he did everything he wanted to do all at once. Like a messed up kid cutting open a squirrel to see what makes it tick.” 

There was a long, tense, pause. Will tried not to fidget under the scrutinizing eyes of the other two men. It’s just logic. Not his fault that they didn’t think of it first. Dr. Lecter stepped minutely closer to Will, who suppressed his immediate urge to step away.

“How would he have known the victims psych profile? Is he a doctor?” 

“No.” Will frowned. “Maybe he wants to be, but this,” he points to the carnage, “isn’t skilled enough to be a doctor’s work. I’d say he works closely with them, though. Not at a hospital, but a private practice. Secretary or assistant or something like that. He’s trying to show off. Prove he’s just as smart as a real doctor, even though he isn’t one.” Rolling his shoulders, he turns his back to Hannibal, trying to silently cue the man that it was time to leave. 

“You have a very interesting view of things… I don’t believe I caught your name.” Dr. Lecter pried further, causing Will’s tension to grow worse. He felt like a rubber band, close to snapping. 

“Will. Graham.” He offered tersely. “And you pick up on things when you’ve been cleaning up murders for as long as I have.” Picking up a brush and dropping to his knees, he began to scrub at a stain with concentrated vigor. He was mostly trying to focus some of his nervous energy on something that didn’t look like a tic. Easier said than done.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graham. And you Mr. Price. I can see that you’ve got a good deal of work to get to, so I’ll take my leave now.” Dr. Lecter gave a cordial nod to both men, with Jimmy waving goodbye, and Will ignoring him completely. 

Once the sound of footsteps had faded and the doctor was out of earshot, Jimmy rounded on Will, crouching down with an expression of utter disbelief on his face.

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” Jimmy hissed, and Will glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second before shrugging and dropping his gaze back to his hands.

“What’re you talking about?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! That whole… psychoanalysis of what’s basically a Jackson Pollock painting from hell! Did Jack give you the details of the case? Did he solve it or something?” Jimmy’s expression shifted to one of wary scrutiny. “Were you just messing with me? Or showing off for Papa Bear?” He made a vague motion to where Dr. Lecter had disappeared to, and Will made a disgusted noise.

“Papa Bear? Jesus christ, Jimmy, save that for someone who’s not me.” 

“Oh quit being a prude and answer my question.” Jimmy huffed impatiently. “Were you just showing off?” Will sighed heavily, resisting the urge to rub his eyes, seeing as his hands were covered in bleach and blood. And he had forgotten to put gloves on. Wonderful.

“No, Jimmy. I wasn’t. I just… I dunno. Guessed.”

“You seemed pretty confident.” Frowning, Jimmy tried and failed to catch Will’s gaze.

“I can’t control that.” Will mumbled. “Can we just drop it and get going? This is gonna take a while.” 

Jimmy reluctantly agreed, falling silent as he grabbed his own supplies and moved to a patch of floor a fair distance from Will. Continuing to scrub, he sighed to himself, making sure Jimmy didn’t hear him. Today was _not_ going well for him _at_ _all_. 

At it was only 6 o’clock. 


End file.
